Using cinemas for gigs?  Makes a change from turning them into churches I suppose (I remember once having a great idea for an article about this conversion phenomenon, drawing out the parallels between the cinema and church-going experiences…that was about as far as it got though.  If somebody could finish it for me that would be just grand).  I contrived to miss the recent Biosphere Picturehouse tour a few months ago (damn damn damnity damn!), and wasn’t about to make the same mistake with Juana Molina given that her Son album has probably been my most played record this year (although iTunes, the lying bastard that it is, swears (lies!) that that title belongs to Islaja’s Paala Aurinkoon). 

A couple of notes on the support acts.  First we had Biggi, who managed to confound my long-held notion that everything from Iceland is pretty brilliant, by managing to be considerably less than the sum of their constituent parts.  The title of Mapsadaisical’s Most Fondly Thought Of Musical Nation must now be fought over in polite Scandinavian fashion by Norway and Finland.

Fionn Regan was next, and surprised me by not being a girl, which shows my utter ignorance of the vagaries of Irish naming conventions.  Despite being praised by Damien Rice, and having a voice which reminded me of Mike Scott of the Waterboys, I quite enjoyed Fionn.  This was mainly due to the success of his high risk strategy of employing an extremely talented cross between one of the Allman Brothers and a very friendly bear as drummer.  

Juana Molina tumbled out in front of the folds of the giant red curtain looking for all the world like a piece of plankton inside a whale’s mouth; opener “Un Beso Llega” was (misguided metaphor continuation alert!) like having your warm bits licked by a whale’s tongue.  Assuming that were a very nice and pleasurable thing, which I often think it would be.

Unaccompanied, Juana built fragile constructions by pasting her beautiful Argentinian voice (truly this article is a musical league of nations.  We are the world.  We are the children.  We are the ones who make a brighter day so lets start giving) over her looped guitar and keyboard structures using fizzy electronic glue.  Son standout “Micael” descended magnificently from pastoral beginnings into lively rhythms.

Touring companions Psapp created merry mischief by requesting Juana play the unplanned “El Perro” (“The Dog Song”, she helpfully translates).  The background to this song demonstrates an interesting Latin American approach to neighbourly relations – after being kept awake by a dog once too often, and the owner refusing to believe that her dog barked all day, Juana taped the dog and played it back at the neighbour’s house at high volume.  You know when you give a dog a good shoeing and it is all like, yelping and barking and stuff – well, this was all like that.  We sat spellbound as Juana did all but turn into the hound, and gave her the biggest round of applause of the night.

 

Juana finished by covering us with the soothing salve of “Salvese Quien Pueda” (boy have I upset my spellchecker now), wrapping us up warm before patting us on the head and giving us a gentle shove out of her church, towards the distinctly un-Argentinian Brixton weather systems outside.